Presents for Daddy (Commission)

Thanks to an anonymous patron for commissioning another wonderful story about our favorite cuckquean trio: Henry, Amy, and Corinne!

***

"Now, sweetie, you know I'm busy right now. Just hold on a few more seconds, okay? Just getting this… just so…"

Amy gazed impatiently over her shoulder at Corinne, who was bent close over her confectionery handiwork at the kitchen counter. Jeez, why was Corinne taking so long? Surely it wasn't that hard to decorate a Father's Day cake, right? Besides, who even made cakes for a dad on Father's Day? And for someone who didn't technically even have a child?

Well, about that last bit…

Amy sighed internally and glanced back down at the heap of colored construction paper and markers spread out on the kitchen table before her. Sure, Henry didn't really have a biological kid. But she was fooling herself if she didn't admit that having her around was practically the same thing.

"Aww, what a messy little girl! Aren't you happy we got you that bib?"

"It's a nice idea, honey. I'm afraid Amy's just too much of a baby to enjoy it."

"Shh… don't cry, sweetie! Even big girls don't always make it to the potty."

"Sweetie, I've already told you: we're not stopping again. If you really need to go, just use your diaper. That's what it's for!"

She wriggled peevishly in place on her kitchen chair, trying to ignore both the grumbling gurgle in her tummy and the chorus of remembered voices reminding her of just how far she'd fallen. Sure, once upon a time she'd been Henry's wife. But slowly, inexorably, over the course of months and years, she'd slipped ever further backward: regressing from irresponsible partner to pouty princess and finally to bumbling babygirl. While Corinne here had stepped in – as a friend at first, and then as Henry's companion, and finally as his replacement wife – proving herself to be the beautiful, mature, capable woman Amy could and would never be…

"Okay, baby – I'm here now! Aww, just look at that. It's so good, sweetie! I love the glitter!"

Amy glanced up at Corinne, feeling a now-familiar wave of envy splash over her as she took in the sight of her friend-turned-mommy. She was… well, she was Corinne: thick blonde hair done up in a mature bun; low-cut blue dress showing off her ample cleavage; a tasteful white apron around her waist; her heels clicking and her earrings swaying and her womanly perfume wafting gently into Amy's nostrils. While meanwhile…

Ugh. Here she was, by contrast. Squatting on her bare knees on the kitchen chair. Dolled up in her own fancy dress, just like Corinne. But Amy's flowered dress was absurdly short, leaving her knobby knees and frilly, calf-length stockings fully exposed. Rather than exposing any cleavage, its smocked front hugged her petite curves, flattening them into prepubescent nonexistence. The doubled petticoats beneath billowed outward. Her lavender pacifier dangled from her floppy collar, clipped securely into place so she couldn't lose it. And with even the least tip forward, in her mind's eye she could practically watch her perilously short hemline rising: revealing the thick, booster-filled, ignominious bulk of her pink diaper for all the world to see… and yes, to laugh at.

Not that Corinne seemed to give it a second thought. "Now, are you gonna write a message on it for Daddy? Or would you like me to help you with that?"

A stab of juvenile frustration shot through her at Corinne's sweetly condescending question, and Amy shook her pigtailed head in sudden, fierce denial. "No! I'm gonna do that!" Open she tugged the purple-and-blue card she'd just completed, ignoring the lopsided shape of the heart pasted to its front as well as the stray smears of glue stick that had seemingly escaped from beneath its ragged edges. "I'll do it all by myself!" Yes! Yes, she would! Dumb Corinne wasn't gonna do it all for her – not this time!

"Okay, then," Corinne laughed softly, and with a kiss to Amy's hair and a loud, affectionate pat on her crinkling butt, she turned back to her own work. "But you're gonna have to hurry up, baby. Daddy's gonna be home any minute now!"

Oh, dear. An audible gurgle escaped her belly as she bent to her work, trying to shut out the sound of Corinne's musical humming and her own increasingly urgent need to use the toilet. Hmm… "Dear Henry"? But no, that wasn't right. He'd followed Corinne's lead and started calling himself Daddy these days. And since it was Father's Day… Ugh, really gotta go potty! Okay, then, focus. Black marker, nice and slow… "Dear…" "Dad… dy…"

It wasn't even ten minutes later, as she labored through the final strokes of "for the best daddy ever!!!" that it happened. Almost without thought. Almost even without recognition. Just a little spike of urgency… a disturbing little rumble… and then, the warm rush of something soft and smeary, expanding gently and with increasing speed into the seat of her diaper.

Followed, of course, by a reflexive flood from her dribbly and by-now completely unreliable bladder.

"Oh, sweetie! Did you- Aww, Amy, you really did, didn't you? You made a great big oopsie again. And who was trying to tell me just this morning that she was big enough for pull-ups?!"

Corinne straightened up from the counter, and Amy's shame-filled gaze swept up from her card to Corinne's exasperated smile, beyond to the stunning patisserie behind her, and then dropped back down to her own work. How laughably juvenile this card looked! Sure, she'd never been good with her hands – or at art in general. But the construction paper and blotchy glitter weren't doing it any favors, either. And now, combined with her horrifically poor handwriting and the smell and sensation of her own well-used diaper… well, it was hard to escape the uncomfortable realization that she was for all intents and purposes an oversized two-year-old.

And like one, she tugged irritably at her heavy diaper: the diaper she had indeed insisted this morning that she didn't really deserve. She opened her mouth in reflexive, peevish protest. But just as she was about to whine out that she wouldn't have made a mess if Corinne hadn't been too busy to take her–

Ding dong. Click. Clunk. "Hi, babes – I'm home! Let the weekend begin!"

Oh, poopie. "Here, sweetie, I'll hide this for you! You go say hi to Daddy, okay?" And in a flash, Corinne whisked the card away into her apron pocket, then turned and slid the gorgeous cake deftly into the refrigerator – all before Amy had even managed to stumble awkwardly down from her chair and waddle sheepishly out to the entryway.

Henry was smiling already, but his expression grew into a positively beaming grin as Amy padded to meet him, her special dress rustling with every waddling step. "Aww, look at you, baby! You're all dressed up! What's the occasion?" She flinched as his arms slipped around her, stiffening in mute anxiety that he'd notice the messy state of her diaper. "I- I was making a surprise-" she began to explain lamely. "A surprise for you-"

But even before she could finish, he drew back, a knowing expression on his handsome face. "Oh… I think you did, didn't you?" His hands spun her around in place, and even before she could do more than meep out an embarrassed little protest, she felt him lifting her poofy skirt and petticoat… tugging open the rear waistband of her shamefully used diaper… probing and patting at the mushy bulk within. "Aww, you little stinker!" Henry sighed, shaking his head in wry dismay upon discovering just how messy she really was. And then, over her head: "Hey, honey? Amy needs a change again!"

"Yeah, sorry, honey – I know." Corinne appeared now, her apron in one hand and a tolerant, apologetic smile on her face. "So sorry, really! I was going to change her before you got here, but-" "Oh, no need," Henry replied, and already his shoes were slipping off and he was taking Amy by the hand. "I wouldn't be a good Daddy if I didn't change our little mess-making princess now and then, huh? And she was just telling me how she'd made a present for me, too…"

"Oh, did she?" Corinne was laughing as Henry led the stiff-legged Amy back toward the room that was now her nursery. "Well, I can't argue with that! Quite a smelly one, though, if I'm being honest." She shook her head mirthfully, leaning against the door frame and watching as Henry, with strong and confident hands, thrust Amy down onto the low changing mat and began preparing a fresh diaper for her. "Hey, you're pretty great at it now, though! Remember the first time you ever tried changing her, babe?"

Ohh, I do… Amy's eyes squeezed shut as the memory swept over her in an overwhelming flashback. How humiliating that had been! How she'd hidden from them both that afternoon, trying desperately to pretend she'd just had a bit of gas. How they'd dragged her out amid loving reprimands. And how Corinne had encouragingly directed Henry through the mortifying, messy ordeal…

"No, not yet. You need a fresh one ready to go, okay?" "There, yes – one booster should do it." "Shh, Amy – hush now! Here, suck on your paci and be quiet!" "No, babe – open all four tapes first, then peel it back." "Yeah, I know it's kinda gross. But babies are just like that. She can't help it anymore, you know." "Okay, front to back. Proper wiping is super important, babe! We don't want any infections…" "Yep, that's pretty good for a first time! Now some lotion. Oh, and be sure to warm it up in your hands first…"

Amy shivered now as the cool wiping commenced, her mind flitting erratically from the present, back to that awful first change, and then to even earlier memories: memories of a time before all of this babyish treatment. Oh, how she'd loved Henry touching her down here once upon a time! He had been so sweet and gentle, too: teasing her tender and inexperienced pussy, laughing softly as she had writhed and mewled out her aroused little protests. But now?

Well, now the only touching Henry did down here was just like this: wiping away her own wet and smelly messes. Massaging this soft, powdery lotion into her hairless and well-shaven crotch. Pulling this fresh, thick cotton bulk around her and imprisoning her vulnerable womanhood once again, deep within yet another of the diapers she now wore night and day.

"There! Now, then, baby – what do you say? What do you tell Daddy?"

Amy blushed at Corinne's words and scrambled sheepishly up from her changing mat. "Umm… thank you. Thanks… Daddy…" She tugged once more at her waist and rustling petticoats, shifting at the undeniably welcome sensation of her fresh and dry diaper beneath. But before she could do more than watch Henry bundling her dirty diaper away and reaching for the sanitizer, Corinne cut in once more. "Oh, honey – you had something else to give him, didn't you? Here, I'm gonna tell you where I hid it, okay? Go fetch it for him!"

And off the blushing Amy trotted to the pantry, with Corinne's whispered directions and the musical laughter of her two caretakers behind her sounding in her ears.

The diaper change itself was embarrassing, of course. But somehow, what came next felt almost more infantilizing than that. For upon her waddling return, Amy rounded the corner to find Henry and Corinne standing in a fond embrace. His left arm was around her waist and cradling her close, while his right hand had plunged deep into the blue dress's low-cut neckline and was visibly fondling her womanly breast. Corinne was murmuring out a low, laughing protest… arching her back and thrusting her ass backward, deep into his groin… half-turning to gaze coyly back into Henry's avid and lustful expression…

And then catching sight of Amy standing there in sheepish silence, Corinne flashed her a bright, knowing smile. "Oh, there it is! Come on, sweetie – come give Daddy his present, okay?"

Of course Henry loved it. Of course he disentangled himself from Corinne, and took the misshapen card from Amy's hands, and exclaimed over the glitter and the sweet words she'd scrawled inside and out. Of course he bent and drew her close in a warm, gentle hug – one hand tugging her close and the other straying from her tousled pigtails to her padded rump and back again. "Thank you so much, sweetie!" he enthused, with all the bright enthusiasm of a preschool teacher. "You're the sweetest darling that ever was! Wait, you made this all by yourself, huh? It's so good! Here, let's hang it on the fridge, shall we?"

All of which, Amy mused in quiet mortification, were precisely the kinds of things he would have said to a sweet little girl: to a clumsy, dummy-sucking, pampers-packing toddler. And so… well, in that way they hurt. They made her cringe in quiet humiliation. They reminded her of just how babyish she had truly become. But then again…

Honestly, they also felt wonderful. Henry did still love her, she realized in mingled gratitude and shame. She might not be the woman of his dreams anymore – if indeed she ever had been. Corinne was all that and more, obviously. But at least…

Well, she could still be the babygirl of his dreams, right?